It's A Reasonable Sacrifice
by ryoku1
Summary: Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard Vers Allusia looked tired, to Harklight's eye.


Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard Vers Allusia looked tired, to Harklight's eye. His complexion had slowly been deteriorating, from its usual pale glow, to something more like that of a ghost. It had in no way been a slow progress, but instead a gradual shift in pigment that had perhaps started around the late Count Saazbaum's passing. Now, Slaine's pallor seemed to have reached what Harklight hoped was its destination, in a long list of shifts that made Harklight fret, and hope it would eventually revert back to normal. The Emperor to be, and his most esteemed lord, was pale. Worryingly pale. He hoped that grey would not be the next shade on the spectrum, but Harklight knew he could glimpse a sort of desperation in Slaine's eyes that worried him endlessly. He imagined that Princesses might very well be one of the leading causes.

Their precarious situation had compounded upon Slaine's engagement to the acting Asseylum Vers Allusia, and upon the awakening of the other. Now officially a knight himself, Harklight found that his duties had changed quite starkly. Before, he had overseen Slaine's day to day operations, stayed at his side, and picked up whatever tasks were necessary of the highest ranking servant under his lord. It had been hard, rewarding work. He had been able to watch Slaine ascend even higher in the hierarchy that had so rigidly oppressed both of them. Even if he himself could never attain such a feat, it was more than satisfying that he could provide Slaine with such care and attention. Harklight had aided, and supported, and had never felt so justified in serving anyone else.

As a knight, his role was very different. He found he was spending a great deal of time away from his liege's side. Slaine's esteem of him was so high, that often when Slaine was in one location, Harklight would be in the other, overseeing daily operations and activities at whichever location Slaine himself was not inhabiting. All of this was in close tandem with his lord, of course. Harklight did not presume to make large scale decisions on Slaine's behalf, but the menial operations, he certainly could not trouble Slaine with. This was even more true now that there was so much more weight to bear on Slaine's slim shoulders.

It awed and amazed Harklight, that despite the mistrust that lurked within those vibrant eyes, Slaine had chosen him, among all others, to place such faith. There were a host of interested counts just waiting to foist off their young clansmen onto the new Emperor to be. Most would be callous, spoiled things of class and pedigree, so dissimilar to his hard working master that it would be a chore to even entertain them. But even with that knowledge, Harklight was sure that there would be at least a few that could catch Slaine's attention. There would be some that would be better choices for pilots, that would be capable of loyalty, and would be deserving of trust. Haklight had found this to mostly be the case. The aristocracy on the whole, was rotten, but there were a few very capable, and worthy individuals within its ranks. Harklight had no illusions that one of these rare specimens, would have made a much better knight than he.

In optimal conditions, such a knight might even come with his or her own kataphrakt. Comparatively, Harklight had little to offer, other than knowledge Slaine already had, loyalty, and dedication. In fact, his particular skill set made him much more suited to staying directly at Slaine's side, than to work independently. Harklight's elevated status could only be due to one predominant factor. Emperor to be Slaine Saazbaum Troyard Vers Allusia, trusted him.

Watching Slaine's eyes gaze off at distant stars, clouded and dull, his pallor ashen, Harklight felt that he did not deserve such trust. Now once more in Slaine's physical presence, Harklight could see the hours of toil, and the cracking of masks that so cleverly hid Slaine from the rest of the murderous backstabbing world around him. Slaine could, and did, keep up appearances marvelously. His ability to keep calm was admirable, but it was only now that Harklight was there with him, face to face, that he could see the strain it was putting on him.

He almost wanted to be a servant again. As a servant, all he'd had to do was keep one worthy individual from drowning; it had been so much simpler, and far more rewarding. He couldn't say that Slaine's success had been due to his aid, but he liked to think that his personal well being had been more assured under Harklights direct influence, even if it was foolish to think so. There was comfort in knowing that Slaine trusted him so deeply. There was comfort in knowing that he was discovering new ways to be of use. There was comfort in knowing that if Slaine ever turned to anyone, it would be him. His new status and position were well meaning gifts of confidence, meant to elevate him, just as Saazbaum had elevated Slaine. Even still, there was no doubt in Harklight's mind, where he would rather be. He found he was not a creature of ambition.

They had only been alone with each other a few times since Slaine had relocated to the landing castle earlier in the day, but the signs of fatigue were unmistakable. Harklight had already noticed quite a few very obvious signs that all was not well. He was sure that Slaine's habit of overworking had not improved. Harklight had also noticed that in private, Slaine's head never sat firmly forward on his neck, it always tilted slightly to the left or right. Harklight wondered if it was a sign of anguish, or indecision.

A soft look was on Slaine's face, neither kind nor pained, simply blank, and soft. Harklight noted that it made Slaine look his age; a teenager draped in crimson cloth that, perhaps, did not suit him. Harklight caught himself thinking that softness did suit Slaine much better, before disregarding the thought. "I thought our days of these matters were over, Harklight."

It was not an overreaching statement, Harklight knew that quite well. Instead, Slaine was commenting on their current predicament. Indeed, Harklight had not had a visit of this nature since his position as a servant had changed. He placed his hand over his heart, and bowed. "Please excuse my lack of decorum. The Princess Lemrina insisted." It would have been more appropriate to send a servant of a lower status; they both knew that, but Harklight found himself jumping at almost any opportunity to enter the same space as his lord. Their closeness was something he had dearly missed, and something he feared he would never again have as a knight, even should they win the war. Any excuse toward that end, even the selfish ones, were ones Harklight found himself entertaining seriously. He knew very well that it had the potential to get out of hand, but he told himself, just this once, it would be alright.

Slaine blinked his eyes almost lazily, and but did not turn his gaze from the great expanse of stars outside his window. He had wondered if Slaine would enjoy the display floor of his quarters on their newly acquired landing ship, but with disappointment, he found the floor's display dull and unused beneath their feet. There had been a certain excitement about seeing his lord bathed in the vibrant blue lights of his home planet, but Slaine's eyes seemed to hold no place for the beautiful blue planet of his birth. His eyes stayed stuck on the expanses of space, and the twinkling of stars none of them would ever reach. "Thank Princess Lemrina for her generous invitation, and give her my sincerest apologies. I know she has wanted to spend time with me, and that I have been distant, but I will be unable to join her for dinner, as she has requested."

Harklight refrained from making any sort of judgment about the statement. Princess Lemrina had been upset in the wake of the engagement, but knowing well of the situation, Harklight found it difficult to take either side. His allegiances to Slaine would not be tested by such a thing, and certainly not so when his skin was ashen, and his eyes clouded and troubled. Harklight reminded himself that he was a simple man, and it was not his place to have opinions about the emotional entanglements of those he had sworn to serve. Allegiance always came first and foremost, and his had never been in question.

"I will see to it that she is well attended." Harklight bowed, and turned on his heals to exit the room. The second he had turned, Harklight felt the weight of eyes squarely on his back. As a good servant should, he ignored it.

\/

Harklight found Slaine exactly where he'd left him half an hour before; seated at his desk, pale and worn, his eyes angled out and away, to the farther reaches of the galaxy. Slaine did not look up at him when he entered, and Harklight imagined that was just as well. He was being petulant, really.

"There are others more suited to this sort of task." Was the only reprimand he received, and it was without harshness or real backing. It had simply been a statement, and for half a moment, Harklight wondered if Slaine also missed him, but was hiding behind decorum so as not to show it. The thought was a selfish one, and he dismissed it quickly. Such assumptions were dangerous, and entirely unprofessional. How foolish to think that he mattered on such a level, when Slaine had princesses, and counts to be concerning his time with. Even if it was true, there were more pressing matters on Slaine's mind, and there likely always would be.

"My apologies, Count Slaine. The Princess Lemrina insisted." He wondered if it had been a misstep to use the title 'Count' or not, and looking upon Slaine's face made him believe that indeed it had. Now that he also held the title 'Lord', it seemed unwise to use it in relation to Slaine. It made them almost close to equal, and Harklight rejected any such thought.

Slaine finally shifted his eyes away from the window, and settled them on the tray Harklight held in his hands. A slight frown marred his features. "She insists too much. I am not hungry, and have no stomach for Terran food."

Harklight tried to keep the disapproval off of his face, but he had been told in the past that his expressions were easy to read. No matter how he tried to conceal his emotions, Slaine would always be better at hiding them. As a servant, he should never question, but he found himself embracing the roll of the knight in that exact moment. "Perhaps a few bites would appease her." He felt a coward for using Princess Lemrina's well wishing stubbornness to his advantage, but he was sure that she had assumed correctly that the Count was not eating well. She would want him to use any advantage he could, and as a person concerned for another's well being, Harklight could sympathize with her feelings. He let that comfort him, in his blatant disregard for protocol.

Eyes that looked like what Harklight could see of earth's sifting oceans, looked up at him. He was struck, wondering what beauties and monsters might wander those depths, before long dark lashes obscured them. When Slaine's eyes opened again, they were less harsh, less troubled, but he could tell that those worries had only sunk down in the depths, just out of sight. They would resurface, given time. "Harklight," his name on Slaine's lips had always brought his full attention, and he noted the informality behind it with interest. "Have you ever tasted proper earth food?"

Oh, Harklight thought, and wondered if his surprise was as apparent on his face as he assumed it was.

\/

"A large percent of European culinary tradition focuses on single servings. It's common not to share food in such systems, but many other cultures are the exact opposite, and portion sizes are based on group standards. In such instances, everyone shares." Slaine delicately cut a small piece of meat off of the larger slice in front of him, speared it expertly with his fork, and deposited it onto Harklight's bare plate. "I'd always wondered what it would be like, sharing food like that." Slaine softly shook his head, and Harklight watched with rapt interest as his hair shifted around the movement. "I'm afraid I am probably doing it all wrong. Try that, it's a land bird that is very popular, and easy to farm. The late Count Saazbaum was very fond of it."

Harklight swallowed, his back stiff in the chair, and nodded. He reached out for the fork that lay so innocently at the side of his plate, and was almost surprised that it did not burn in his hands. He had pushed the boundaries of his servitude, and this situation, where they sat at equal levels, sharing expensive earth food fit for Princess Lemrina herself, was his punishment. His unease at the situation could not be overstated, he was doing everything he could not to fidget, and when he did not need his hands otherwise, he kept them firmly planted in his lap, so that he could hide how he was holding them so hard that his nails digging were into his wrists. Now, with the fork in his hand, he was sure the tension in his fingers was horribly obvious.

He looked over at Slaine, before quickly returning his eyes back to the offending piece of food on his plate. Harklight reassured himself, that this complete lack of protocol was just as much due to Slaine's own doing, as his own, and that they were eating together, which translated to Slaine eating, and was thus well worth the horrible, churning, unease in his stomach. There was also some comfort that Lemrina might find this a suitable substitute as well, but he dared not inform her, and suffer the possibility she might take it as a slight. Slaine most certainly was eating, but it was not with her.

With fork in hand, he managed to somehow get the piece of meat into his mouth, and started to chew. For what felt like a very long time, he was enamored by it. He had some basic understanding that food on Earth was a hallmark of distinct cultures and traditions, but he'd always just assumed that it was just another of many reasons why Terrans found it so difficult to stop bickering with one another. With one simple bite, he was starting to realize the issue was far more complicated than he had ever imagined. Not even his staunch set for decorum could keep him from hungrily devouring the morsel as fast as he could, and eyeing the large piece on Slaine's plate.

As if to bring him back to himself, Slaine cleared his throat. Harklight jumped back to attention in his seat almost instantly, but when he looked at Slaine apologetically, the count only smiled back at him softly. Harklight was again struck that the look suited him. "There's no need for embarrassment, Harklight. It's just us, and I imagine you've never experienced anything like this before." Without otherwise being prompted to, Slaine deposited another small piece of meat on Harklights plate, but he was to enthralled watching Slaine to really notice it.

He looked calm, and for once, almost happy. There was weight in Slaine's eyes, as there had been as long as Harklight had known him, but it was buried down deep at that moment. It occurred to him that he had only ever seen Slaine so relaxed, so kind, in the company of Princess Asseylum, slumbering in her coffin of tubes and glass. The thought made him ache, and he wondered if this was different, if Slaine was capable of being truly happy, outside of this weighted pleasure. He remembered quite vividly what Slaine had always told him. _I don't have a dream._ Perhaps it was true, and Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard had simply learned to accept what small happiness he could grasp.

The thought was obviously upsetting, but there was nothing for him to do. He reached over, and ate the piece of meat Slaine had put on his plate, taking care to savor it, and not devour it whole. Once he had finished, he placed his fork down, and looked up at Slaine. "It is presumptuous of me-" but he was learning to be a knight, not a servant, and trying to figure out where he stood, as a knight and a person- "but, I hope that when the war has concluded, that you would allow me to share your table once more."

The surprise on Slaine's face was swift, but those green-blue eyes quickly shifted away from him, and Harklight tried not to be disappointed. He tried even harder not to let it show. "Perhaps" was the only answer he received. A good servant knew when to keep his mouth shut, but it was Harklights endeavor to not allow this simple moment to be ruined by his carelessness.

He bowed his head. "You honor me with such favoritism. I apologize for my bold presumptions." He rose his head up, and offered Slaine a genuine smile. "If it is your wish not to eat alone, you need not treat me so kindly. It is my esteemed privilege to accompany you when you deem it fit for me to do so." Harklight felt the need to retreat, to stop imposing is own hopes and expectations on Slaine, but he had not been excused, and he wouldn't dare go against his lord again. Even though he'd shamed himself, he would deal with any punishment Slaine felt was appropriate. A lesser count would already have punished him for his impudence, but as he caught a fast glimpse of Slaine, his mind went blank.

The conversation had upset Slaine, and Harklight could see it quite vividly. It concerned him, both that something he'd said had so troubled his master, and that it was so obvious for him to notice. There was no reason for Slaine to be upset. Anger was the proper response, and an appropriate punishment -always too mild at the hands of his kind lord- was in order. Harklight bowed his head again; content to wait for some form of reprimand or order. What he received, was another small piece of meat delicately left on his plate. He looked up inquisitively, but Slaine's eyes would not meet him.

"Harklight, if I have made you uncomfortable, you may leave." Harklight noted the use of words, and the various meanings behind them, but he knew an order when he heard one. The piece of food on his plate was contradictory, but he rose to his feet, and bowed deeply. When he rose, Slaine's troubled eyes were on him, his head tilted to the left. "But, if you would prefer to stay, I give you freedom to do so. There will be no repercussions, no matter what decision you make."

Harklight blinked. A test of some sort, but it was unlike Slaine to play such games. They were often the tools of devious aristocracy, to force a helpless commoner to proverbially choose their own poison. It was only because Harklight knew Slaine, his kindness, his compassion, that he was sure this game could be no trick. But trick or not, it did have motive. Harklight believed Slaine when he'd said there would be no consequences, but there was an obvious line being drawn, and he was being given the chance to cross it, or to remain safely on one side of it. To take the roll of the servant, who did not question, who did not break protocol, or of the knight, who could voice their opinions with confidence. No matter how he picked, Slaine was allowing him the decision.

Once he'd grasped the intricacies of the situation, the choice was easy.

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Harklight woke, and for a moment, could not remember if it had been a memory, or a dream. Sleep held him so heavily, the dream so vivid, that even if it had never happened, it asserted itself as fact. He simply accepted it as the past, of roads and choices long squandered.

He smelt the musty stench of the prison cell around him, and as he opened his eyes, a familiar ceiling greeted him. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into sleep, or memories, or dreams. There was one more word to add at the end of that list, but he chased the dark thought away. There was no place for it here, just as there was no place for him.

He covered his eyes with his arm and laughed once humorlessly. What a fool he was and had been. Nine months was a long time to keep doing this.


End file.
